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The RISE Of NATHALIA CARTER

The wedding day. A moment that most women treasured with but not with her. She was poisoned on her own wedding day; Nathalia Carter died full of hatred for her father and fiance. How could she accept that they murdered her? Nathalia gaped at Evette Carter, her step-sister, who was now laughing at her stupidity. Evette is one of the culprits behind her painful death. Demons. They are all demons. Nathalia thought in silence while she closed her eyes as consciousness abandoned her. With rage and tears, Nathalia cursed them and promised to take revenge if given a chance to survive. Suddenly, God hears her prayer and gives her a second chance, and she is allowed to come back to seek revenge. This time, she will not be so naive. She becomes fiercer and eager to bring justice to her own death. She would make sure they got what they deserved in this life. Revenge. Torture. Take everything they had. Make them suffer ten times worse than what they did to her. Along the way, her life changed when she met the notorious playboy- Spencer Davidson. He aims to take her as his woman and help her to fulfill her desire to take revenge. Love, Revenge, and Mystery played along the way. Giving her the most challenging part as she journeyed through her new life. Cover Created by: Weilan Wanna know more about the story, follow me on Instagram: annashannellin

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Chapter 71: They Think It Was An Anonymous Gift

Catherine unwrapped the bandage from her ankle and carefully shifted her weight onto the leg. She expected pain, but the ankle felt fine. She flexed and pointed it and then slipped on a pair of strappy white heels. She teetered backward and examined herself in the mirror.

The white gown was quite simple, but it was stunning. Off-the-shoulder straps revealed Catherine's graceful shoulders and pale décolletage without being scandalous. The dress itself clung tight to her breasts and waist before flaring out over her legs. The skirt was narrow, though, and when she moved, the fabric revealed the outline of her ass. She spun slowly in the mirror, amazed at how elegant she felt.

Her dark hair was piled high on her head, and she wore powder, mascara, and a slash of red lipstick. She looked dramatic—like a character in a play. Or a bride. Her breath caught in her chest. Had Sean intentionally chosen the dress for that reason?